


A Burden Shared

by ibreathethroughwords



Series: A Burden Shared [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Accidental Scarification, Alien Mating Rituals, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Chapter 1 is gen, Character Headcanon, Claiming, Crew as Family, Cum Marking, Cum Play, Depression/Anxiety, Dirty Talk, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Liberties taken with alien anatomy/sperm production, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Graphic for that, PTSD, Playing fast and loose with space psychology and medicine, Pre-Slash, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Time Skip: One Month, bite mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/pseuds/ibreathethroughwords
Summary: "Quit beating yourself up. There's no way of knowing what might have been, and no one's blaming you for anything.""I'm not - ""You are."Kallus glared up at Zeb, frustrated, shaken, and annoyed that he had the nerve to glare back. It still didn’t give him the energy to fight when Zeb gripped his shoulders and pressed their foreheads together again.-------Stuck with what might as well be a crew of meddling Corellian mothers, Kallus regains his sense of self after the Empire, and learns that it's okay to confide in someone else.





	1. A Story Shared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously playing fast and loose with space psychology. I'll use space medicine as a plot device, just like canon. 
> 
> Also a big thank you to my actual wife, pyro_turk, for reading this about 6 times for me, becoming slightly obsessed with it, and then making me post it more or less at knife point. She's already begging for a sequel and knows when my days off are. The joy of shared calendars, right?

Kallus-formerly-known-as-Agent had been their Rebel Intelligence Officer1 over a standard month before anybody noticed anything was wrong. The crew of the _Ghost_ was used to grabbing food when and where they could. Rarely did anyone sit down to eat together anymore, and since they were all used to the norms for each other but not for Kallus, no one noticed he was only eating the bare minimum while on the ship. He had caused them so much pain and suffering, and still felt largely responsible for Atollon being discovered, even if his new friends didn't know that just yet. Kallus had done so many terrible things to them and to the people they had tried to help, that he _knew_ he deserved none of their kindness. 

As result, it was difficult for him to feel welcome to their supplies, even though he _lived there_ , even though he escaped the _Chimaera_ with only the clothes on his back, even though he was informed that he was perfectly welcome to any and all food and water they had because the _Ghost_ was his home now. All he owned in the universe was the captain's uniform given to him by Rebel Command, and the remains of the uniform he escaped in that he couldn't stand to put on. Even thinking about the unforgiving fabric against his flesh made his skin crawl and his stomach knot.

Once, he'd been proud to wear it.

Once.

Now it didn't even fit him. He'd given the armor to Sabine to do what she wanted with it: likely, it had been painted some frightfully cheerful color and stashed in a corner of her room. The rest was somewhere, in case of emergency or the need for infiltration.

Kallus didn't even have an assigned bunk on the ship, as far as he knew. Certainly no one had ever shown him there or said in passing where he was officially to sleep. With no things of his own anymore and seemingly no real room aboard for him even if he did have things of his own, he had no need for storage, and he could fall asleep anywhere if he put his mind to it. Kallus was more of a ghost than the ship, sleeping less than the crew in an endless effort to be of use. In the Empire, becoming useless or obsolete meant death: taking his chances with that here would be foolish when these people had given him an opportunity to make up for even some of the evil things he'd done in the name of peace, blinded by the ideals of the New Order, his loyalist parents, and COMNOR's thorough brainwashing of its agents.2 When Kallus could no longer function, or it made sense to sleep now instead of later, he slept; otherwise, he was awake and working on whatever he could.

Hera swore her ship had never run more smoothly, and her scolding Ezra when he called Kallus a kiss-ass gave him some small measure of comfort.

Most of the work he did, he did on an empty stomach, ignoring the hunger, ignoring thirst, pushing his body to its limit to take care of the people around him that he'd once been so determined to destroy. It hadn't gotten out of hand, or so Kallus had thought, until one day when he'd been alone on the ship with Chopper for several hours. After distracting Zeb, Rex, and Ezra with a supplies list and sending them away, Kallus had briefed Kanan and Hera on the real reason they were in a heavily patrolled Imperial-held planet, in its largest city, close to the Inner Rim. They'd been the only two he'd sent on the mission to extract one of his field agents, purely because they were most likely to not get into trouble, when it hit him that he _tortured Kanan_ , and the man was trusting him with his life. He'd willingly participated in that, and now they worked together. Kallus couldn't understand how Kanan could stand to be on the same planet with him: he could hardly stand himself sometimes.

Kallus spent the entire time they were gone shaking, working through the comm tune-up with fumbling hands that kept dropping tools, and repeatedly telling Chopper he didn't want to talk about it every time the droid made a comment instead of lying and saying he was okay. They both knew he wasn't, but the constant questioning, nagging, and huffing from the droid kept Kallus from drifting into thinking too deeply about the last time he'd been tortured. Any talk or thoughts about the torture of others brought that tagging along. That was a nightmare he'd already had twice this week, and he didn't need nor want to relive it while he was awake. 

It was the one thing no one had been able to get him to talk about: what happened to him after sending his aborted warning, and where he'd been during Thrawn's attack on Atollon. The first time they tried he clammed up and wouldn't talk to any of them or raise his eyes from the deck for hours, until the shaking had subsided and it was only him and Rex sitting side by side in the quiet of the cockpit, watching the instruments and the view outside as they passed through hyperspace. Kallus could hear the question and avoid answering it without falling into hours of silence now, but he couldn't prevent the flashbacks. 

By the time anybody returned Kallus had himself mostly under control again. He was sure there was a haunted look in his eyes, but the Ezra skipped right over it in their greetings. The horrors of war have worn on them all, but Kallus had been upholding the New Order for more or less their entire lives. Ezra had been through hell ( _a large part of that was your fault_ , he reminded himself), but his crimes aren't anything with which he would ever want to burden someone still so young. Teenagers see most everything in black and white, and that was a view of morality with which Kallus was no longer comfortable because that was how the Empire saw things. It was Rex and Zeb, following behind the boy, that noticed the haunted look in Kallus's eyes as they approached the ramp. A look was exchanged between them, as though they were deciding if either of them needed to stop and handle him, and Zeb seemed to draw the short straw.

"Come on," he said, stopping in front of Kallus and offering a paw up. "We're going to have to fly over and pick up Hera and Kanan and your man. He's gotten himself in a bit of a mess."

 _Recruiters_ , Kallus thought with a roll of his eyes, and took the paw. It bothered him that nobody had contacted him to get the _Ghost_ ready to fly: it was his subordinate they were picking up. The only reason he wasn't leading the extraction team were the signs everywhere that had his face on them offering a large bounty for his capture. He wanted to ask as Zeb easily pulled him to his feet, but didn't particularly want to deal with any potential arguments after an afternoon of holding off flashbacks. "Not again," he groaned. "Just once, I'd like to meet someone who started in intelligence work and can keep their nose clean. These field agents need better training across the board." 

He missed the suspicious look Zeb gave him as the ramp lifted and Rex got the engines started. "Can't have intelligent intelligence agents if they're doing something besides spying," Zeb teased, "that would be redundant. Be nice if the Empire would lift your bounty so we could get you off this ship and out there to teach them."

Kallus snorted, pushed down the sting of the comment of wanting him off the ship, and followed Zeb to the cockpit. Right. Because field work was what he wants to go back to with his recognizable face and recognizable voice. He was happy enough right here, as long as they would keep him, and they had a job to finish.

Wasn't he?

\---

The entire trip back to Yavin IV had been weird. As this had been assigned as an intelligence mission, Kallus got to do all the debriefings, which meant he got a lot of pushback because it seemed like these people would never fully trust him and hated that he was alone in a room with another intelligence officer for the initial debriefing. Ezra, in particular, was still having a hard time. His fellow captains among the crew - Hera and Zeb - sort of had his back on that: Kallus was following his orders from above, to follow Rebel Intelligence procedures as outlined in his commission, and he'd had to debrief Lieutenant Andor alone. It was after that the strange behavior had really started.

The rest of the hyperspace jump back he'd endured the eyes of the crew watching his every move in a way they hadn't since those first few encounters after he'd revealed that he was Fulcrum. Whatever they'd discussed while he'd further debriefed the young lieutenant, it must have been a serious crime on his part. Eventually, he'd managed to dodge all the prying eyes by tucking himself into the upper turret to work on his mission report and read over Andor's so he could sign off on it.

Arriving at the base was a relief. Kallus and Andor reported to Draven for debriefing, and he hoped in doing so he could avoid the weirdness of the _Ghost's_ crew for a while. "That C1-10P droid is following you," Andor murmured to him as they made their way through the hangar bay.

Kallus muttered something under his breath that might have been "Karabast." So that was their plan? "Ignore him. I don't know what's got them suspicious of me now."

Andor glanced around, then leaned in. "I can tell you. They weren't trying to be very subtle and didn't seem to care if I overheard."

"They've no idea how to be subtle," Kallus said, glancing over at his subordinate. "What is it?"

The lieutenant gestured with his head to an alcove just off the command room, and Kallus followed him. Chopper rolled passed, whistling innocently. _You're not fooling anyone, Chopper._

"You've apparently lost too much weight," Andor said, doing his best to look unaffected while standing with his hands behind his back in poor mimic of a parade rest, like he definitely wasn't trying to suppress any kind of amused look. Clearly, he was stating professional concern. His small smirk did little to add any professional element to it. "It sounds like you were assigned to a ship of meddling Corellian mothers.3 You're too skinny now, you have bags under your eyes or something, and they're going to try to ambush you after General Draven finishes debriefing us because I guess they realized all at once they've never actually seen you eat even though you've been living with them for a month."

Other than raising an eyebrow and leaning his head back slightly, Kallus didn't let his surprise show on his face. How the hell had they managed to deduce…? Andor had certain found a good description for them: they were acting like a bunch of meddling Corellian mothers! They were completely right, and he knew it, but there was no way Kallus could explain himself out of that one without being honest with them about what had happened on Lothal leading up to the attack: the one thing he didn't want to discuss.

"Okay," he said, because there was no way he was explaining the situation to anybody else.

"That's all you're going to say, sir?"

Kallus shook his head. "I've no idea what else to say to that, and they'll keep for now. Come along, lieutenant. General Draven is expecting us."

\---

It was a long debriefing, and both of them had known that would be the case going into this. Kallus was well prepared with several arguments for expanding their training for field agents based off of the situation on the planet and what Lieutenant Andor had been able to accomplish. The man had done very well, despite the limited training the Rebellion was willing to provide, and Kallus had absolutely no qualms whatsoever about cutting in to point out how specific training could have made certain objectives obtainable, more obtainable, safely obtainable, or a non-issue. When the back up plan's back up failed, he pointed out, perhaps it was time to reconsider the Rebellion's stance on training operatives to a set standard.

There had been a list of very good reasons the Empire was so set on those standards, after all.

Eventually, well after Andor had been sent from the room, he'd been dismissed as well. Tired, hungry, and annoyed, Kallus had long ago forgotten about the warning given to him by his subordinate. Paying very little attention to where he was going other than that he was looking for any corner quiet enough for a nap, Kallus stopped only when he recognized Zeb's foot blocking his path. 

"There you are. We were starting to think Draven was going to keep you all night," said Ezra from behind him.

We? Oh, _hell_. Kallus looked up, glanced around. The _Ghost's_ crew had managed to surround him, and if that wasn't absolutely embarrassing given his former career and current position, he didn't know what was. He had to play it cool, and not show that he was startled. "It was a near thing, considering the half hour he kept me at attention for pushing my argument too far. I was considering curling up on the conference table if he kept me there much longer," Kallus answered as he casually shifted his feet. If there was going to be any way out of here, it would be by breaking low and slipping between Zeb and Kanan. They were quick, but tall like he was. Behind him, Ezra muttered something about how awful that sounded. Kallus had endured far worse, and the discipline had done what Draven had likely wanted: it had grounded him in the moment, gotten him back into his head and under control.

"There's no need for that," Hera said from behind him, one of her hands locking around his left bicep in a vise-like grip. "You're clearly free before bed time, just as General Draven promised me."

 _Draven was in on this? Ugh._ Zeb took his other side, one big paw wrapping around his other arm and the other wrapping around his waist. "That means you're all ours right now," Kanan said, stepping up behind him as Zeb and Hera nudged him forward.

Kallus didn't bother to hide his concern from his face. Was this a kidnapping or a murder? A public lynching? Had he horrifically screwed up the comm repair? Revenge for telling Draven where to shove his outdated ideas? His heart raced in his chest as his eyes bounced from face to face and then his surroundings, seeking escape. If he could steal a ship, he could make it to another planet and ditch it, keep stealing ships and clothing until he could bury himself so deep in obscurity in some backwater planet in Wild Space that no one would ever find him. 

"What's going on?" he asked. At least his voice sounded steady, even if it revealed exactly how suspicious he found this.

"Relax," Ezra said, in a tone that didn't help him do that at all, "this is an intervention."

It took Kallus several more steps for his brain to catch up with that, and then he dug his heels in and planted his feet. "No, no, _no_! Stop! An intervention for _what_?" he demanded, staring the boy down, fighting hard not to move even as Zeb tried to keep him going. 

Kanan rested a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine," he said unhelpfully. "Zeb, just pick him up if you have to, we're going to be late."

"Late for _what_? No, Garazeb, don't you - Put me down!" he hissed. Kallus was going to kill them all in their sleep, and by the time they arrived at medical, he'd planned out at least four murder methods for each of them. Zeb was left to guard him in medical, likely to make sure he didn't kill anybody there, and the others left to prepare "something". Kallus was annoyed they didn't leave him with an easier guard. 

They were all terrible people.

He leaned slightly against Zeb's side while they waited in a small stone room anyway, but only because he was tired, the walls were stone, and the bed he was sitting on didn't have a pillow. "I can't believe you lot _kidnapped me_ ," he grumbled. "For what? You won't even tell me why we're here."

The lasat looked down at him, amusement clear on his face. "Nope," Zeb agreed, seemingly to spite him. "You'll get all pissy at me for making accusations without evidence so I'm getting my evidence first, mate." Kallus's face must have darkened with the rage that filled him, because if they thought-, "No, we're not checking you for implants again, Kal, calm down." Zeb spoke fast, lifted a paw to rub circles over Kallus's back. "You're not an Imperial, we know that. You're a Rebel, through and through. Just sit through this. Trust me. Please?"

He wasn't going to stop glowering just because this fluffy bastard had princess-carried him here, let him use him as a pillowed headrest, and then nicely rubbed his back for a minute while looking embarrassed about the whole thing. Those big green eyes and the politeness wore on him quickly though, because Kallus found himself huffing and not _not agreeing_ to that. What was it about Zeb that made any request seem downright reasonable when he looked at Kallus like that? He could probably ask Kallus to drop to his knees and - 

_Dangerous territory. Stop it._ Kallus knew better than to go down that road. Relationships were for people who deserved them, not for people like him. The thought pulled at his chest and arms, a familiar ache that he hated and pushed away. _You're not worth it, and you murdered everyone on his planet. He'd never even take you to bed just as a hole to be used, let alone as a lover._ The ache deepened, and Kallus made himself sit up, away from the physical contact. Now though, Zeb was looking at him very strangely, sniffing the air a bit, and giving him a look akin to pity. 

_Damned if that doesn't feel like a punch to the gut,_ Kallus thought, and looked away to save himself from that face and the damnable amount of power he refused to admit it held over him. 

An actual, human medic interrupting them was a massive relief. Kallus had seen a medical droid last time. Zeb pulled the doctor of the room for a moment - presumably, to discuss the situation - and then remained on guard outside the entire time. He was made to endure a physical exam, another psychological exam that Kallus recognized as a post-trauma exam, and some other conversation that may have been a psych-eval or something else entirely. The doctor stepped out and came back with another one, an older one, who sat with him and made him answer two more questionnaires. Both of these, Kallus recognized: the PHQ-94 and GAD-75 were used differently in the ISB Internal Affairs Division than they were anywhere else in the galaxy. Someone had the bright idea to use them to identify at-risk officers who may need to visit the Re-Education Division, and so all Internal Affairs, Enforcement, and Investigations officers were trained in their use during their time at the ISB Academy, before being assigned to their division and put to work for the glory of the New Order. He'd administered them numerous times, and they made him tense as a matter of course because of what generally happened when he was near one.

He'd cooperated anyway, because if someone thought he wasn't he'd have to do this again later, possibly with truth drugs added into the mix. Kallus absolutely had to stay clear-headed and avoid talking to the wrong people about the wrong things. As few people as possible ought to be horrified by him at once, he thought.

With no one he really knew in the room, it was easier to answer, even with the fear of Zeb overhearing him from outside the door. Kallus didn't want to continue to be so disappointing to him, but he didn't know how else to be right now. He'd kept track of the scores in his head, and knew they were too high to be good.6

As he'd expected, the results of everything had been disheartening.

The Chief Medical Officer, a lovely young Colonel with tanned skin, curly red hair, and the biggest blue eyes Kallus had ever seen came in to talk to him about the results, Zeb tagging along behind her. She was the approachable sort of doctor he'd seen before he'd been old enough to enter the Imperial Academy system, with a good bedside manner and a warm, friendly smile that skirted the edges of professional for barely a moment when she looked him up and down.

Kallus couldn't blame her. He was the talk of the base: something about the way a single strand of hair had kept falling into his eyes the day he'd first been brought to Yavin IV despite repeated attempts to tame it. Thrawn had knocked that hair out of place the way he'd cemented Kallus's betrayal with his cruelty and the mass murder of innocent civilians during the Battle of Batonn. If nothing else, he could thank the man for unintentionally giving him the nickname "Hot Kallus".7

He winked back at the doctor to make her blush and glance away. If that was going to be the one good thing in his life, he was bound and determined to keep it.

Zeb startled him by growling quietly and laying a paw on his shoulder as he stood closer than normal next to the human. Kallus reached his hand up to rest on top of it, reassuring him, and felt Zeb squeeze his shoulder in return. He'd never heard Zeb growl at anybody over him before. Sure, sometimes when he was injured the lasat could get a little grouchy and protective, but not like this. The CMO raised an eyebrow at the lasat as if to remind him that Kallus was single and, therefore, up for grabs. The whole exchange was bizarre, like something off one of the soap opera his mother had used to star in when he was a little boy back on Coruscant. "Okay. Is it… 'Rafe' Kallus?"8

"Ah. Yes," he said, realizing when Zeb made a surprised noise behind him that he'd never given his crew his first name.

"I'm Colonel Tallaesan Dasheil. I'd like to admit you for observation for a couple days for a few reasons," she said, holding up a hand to stall his protests. "You're dehydrated, and you're really suffering from a lack of nutrition. I want you on an IV with supplements and regular checks so we can make sure your body isn't tossing out important vitamins and minerals. You've also lost quite a bit of weight since you were initially commissioned a month ago. That alone is enough for me to take you off the activity duty roster immediately, as you haven't been undercover or on any assignment where this should have happened, Captain Kallus. We need to run more tests to rule out anything you could have come down with, though I doubt that's the case. Finally, your PHQ-9 and GAD-7 scores."

Kallus looked away. He'd been keeping count of those in his head, and known they were intolerably high for someone on active duty. "I know they're high," he remarked calmly. "22 and 14, was it?"

Colonel Dasheil brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes as she glanced at her data pad. "Yes. You're familiar with these?"

He sighed softly. "I had to use them before during Internal Affairs investigations," he admitted. It was one of the few things regarding the details of his former employment he'd ever said in front of Zeb.

"I see," she said, with the air of an officer trying to keep her tone neutral. It wasn't working. She was exasperated with him, or worried. Kallus suspected she'd figured something out about him. "Then you understand the problem here. Whatever it is that you aren't talking about, Captain, whatever trauma you went through before you turned up here, I highly recommend you talk about it to someone. Anyone. Your GAD-7 is particularly concerning me because of which questions had the higher scored answers. Tell me, Captain, are you not eating because of loss of appetite or are you not eating because you think you don't deserve to eat?"

 _Karabast, but she was good._ His jaw dropped right through the floor as Kallus's head shot up to look at her for just a moment before looking away. If she wasn't needed keeping living beings functioning, the colonel would have been an excellent field agent. She'd seen straight through him. Zeb's paw tightened on his shoulder and the way some vines from outside had still managed to end up in the cracks in the floor became even more interesting. "Kallus," he threatened, because of course he couldn't just let the human avoid answering this one.

Answer it he would, but figuring out how to phrase it without causing more worry took a moment. Would he have answered at all, he wondered, if it had been anyone else but Zeb at his back? "It's both," he said softly, without making eye contact, "and it's complicated. I don't have an appetite because I remember things I've done, and then I think that I should only eat what I need to survive. Other people deserve the bulk of the food: I don't. It's not right to contribute so little after causing so much suffering and just…" The weird, aching pull in his chest and arms was back, but now it crept up the sides of his neck, and threatened his eyes with hot tears.

The sudden sigh from behind him sounded exasperated. He should have kept his mouth shut because he was upsetting his only friend, and Kallus stopped talking then. Zeb's paw slid down his shoulder to grip his arm. "Give us a bit, would you?" he asked the colonel, voice tight with some emotion Kallus couldn't identify.

"Of course. Let us know when you're finished," she said. She offered them a sad smile and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her.

Carefully, as though he was concerned about startling Kallus, Zeb settled onto the bed behind him, and used the grip on his arm to turn the human around to face him. Kallus went willingly, suddenly out of energy to struggle free, fighting to hold back tears that startled him with their intensity. "You contribute more than enough, you furless, overworked, emotional, muttonhead. Karabast, Kal, I've never seen anybody work as hard as you do, like you're terrified to be caught not working."

Zeb's voice trailed off as everything seemed to click together in his mind. He was smart, and if the Empire hadn't locked down all his accounts and seized all his assets, Kallus would have bet the house on Zeb figuring out what was wrong with him before anybody else. It had ended up like that, in the end.

"Oh." 

Kallus glanced up at him through red-rimmed eyes, trying his best not to let his fear of that show on his face and likely failed miserably. Realization had dawned on the lasat, and he was looking down at Kallus with something that was both frustration and fondness on his face. "We're not going to space you if you aren't working! You're allowed to eat when you're hungry, Kallus. You _have_ to take better care of yourself. We depend on you and part of that is depending on you to be functional. How are you going to come save us and give us some annoying lecture on how stupid our plan was and how we'd be dead without you by now if you're suddenly too weak to swoop in and save the day, huh?"

Of course they wouldn't. Kallus knew that, but… he had needed to hear it, maybe. "I guess that would make it difficult," he managed shakily.

"Damn right," Zeb muttered, swiping a fur covered finger over a cheek to catch a stray tear that had fallen, and nodded once as though to consider the matter settled. "What's all this about you not deserving anything? We've been over the tragedies of the past we have in common, so I doubt this is about that."

Why the hell did he have to be so damn sharp? Kallus tried to pull away, not wanting to discuss this at all. He'd resigned himself to it before, but having it brought up again made him sick. Nausea tagged along behind the topic, shame leading the way, and he wanted to curl in on himself and ignore the way his mind found it so easy to show him everything from that day.

Like Zeb would ever let him go. All the leeway he got was a shift in positions: Kallus was allowed to sit slightly farther away, but contact wasn't broken. Zeb wouldn't release him. A furred finger under his chin turned the ginger's head to look at the lasat. "What the hell happened to you during that battle?"

" _Garazeb_ , please - " He badly did not want to relive this or discuss it ever, no matter what the doctor wanted.

Zeb shook his head, moved his paw from Kallus's chin to the back of his head, and used the surprisingly gentle grip to rest Kallus's forehead against his own. "Take a deep breath, mate. I can hear your heart trying to beat out of your chest. I can smell your fear overpowering everything. Just breathe. You're not there. You're here. You're safe. I've got you, and no matter what they did, they aren't going to do it to you again."

 _You can't guarantee that,_ was what he badly wanted to say. The words wouldn't come, chased off by the anger in Zeb's voice, directed not at him, but at the Empire. Kallus lifted a hand to rest on Zeb's arm, feeling the powerful muscles shift beneath the fur. A deep breath of Zeb's scent grounded him. It was strong, but he had no idea why Ezra was forever complaining about it: privately, Kallus had always found it rather pleasant. "I was eavesdropping on a conversation between Thrawn, Governors Tarkin and Pryce, and Admiral Konstantine," he said instead. "Thrawn told them he had discovered your planned attack on the TIE defender factory and that General Dodonna's fleet had left to meet with Commander Sato's. That's what I knew."

The paw on the back of his head stroked through his hair, and Kallus relaxed further. It was so much easier to tell him this way: without looking Zeb in the eye. Perhaps this was the coward's way out, but it if got the job done… He breathed out heavily, and was encouraged with a squeeze of the paw on his bicep. Once he started, the words tumbled out. "I went to Ezra's former home to send the transmission to you: it's one of the locations I'd been using to get them out. You already know how much of my message got out before I was interrupted. Thrawn - he was waiting to jam the transmission. We fought, I broke his device to get my warning out, we fought again, and he handed me my ass. Those Death Troopers - the ones in all black you weren't sure about the other day - got me kneeling and suspended me so I was hanging by my wrists. I - "

He couldn't find the words to describe the torture. Kallus was silent for a long time, silently reliving the torture that had been inflicted upon him directly by the Grand Admiral during his interrogation. Tremors wracked his body. It had been so hard to exhale in that position. Getting air in had been easy enough, but expelling it had been tough: that was the point of suspending anybody by the wrists. Had Thrawn left him there, unable to get out, Kallus would have eventually died of suffocation from a carbon dioxide build up in his blood cells.

"He tortured you?" Zeb asked after a moment. 

"Yeah," Kallus answered quietly, voice full of guilt as he continued. "Yes. He sent the Death Troopers outside, and did it himself." 

Zeb pulled back from him slightly, eyes wide. Kallus finally opened his eyes, carefully watching as shock was chased across his friend's face by horror and then cold, brutal anger. " _Karabast_."

Dry lips suddenly irritated him, and Kallus let his sense of discipline lapse long enough to wet them with his tongue as he nodded in agreement with Zeb's assessment before continuing. "I didn't give him anything, but that wasn't the point of it. He already had what he wanted the moment I sent the transmission. They knew the trajectory of General Dodonna's fleet and used my transmission to triangulate your base. That's how he found you. It was torture for torture's sake: a punishment for defying the Emperor. For evading his search for Fulcrum for so long."

They were quiet for a while, Kallus watching Zeb take in the new information, Zeb idly rubbing a thumb over Kallus's bicep while he processed what he'd been told. Eventually, decision made, he looked right into Kallus's eyes. "You know that's not your fault, don’t you?"

"Mmm," the human responded, forcing himself to hold Zeb's gaze. "Intellectually, yes. I know that, but I feel guilty as hell about it."

"Guess you can't much help how you feel after something like that. All right, we'll deal with that later." _We._ Kallus managed a small smile, heart lightened slightly, until Zeb ran the smile off his face by continuing. "Let's have the rest of the story first: where were you during the battle?"

Kallus pulled himself free then, or maybe Zeb had let him go, and slid off the bed. Standing, _moving_ was easier. Having his arms wrapped around himself while he looked out the small window into the courtyard below made talking less difficult somehow, even if it wasn't the ships and people of the current Rebel Alliance he was seeing, but the deaths of Phoenix Squadron, the loss of Commander Sato, and the ships General Dodonna had brought for the strike against the Empire on Lothal. Inflection had vanished from his soft voice, but Kallus didn't notice, lost in recalling the events of the day aloud. He took a deep breath to continue, but when he spoke, his voice sounded so soft, so distant, so _alien_ to him that Kallus barely recognized his own voice. "I was on the _Chimaera's_ bridge for the entire attack. Thrawn… he wanted me to watch. To see the price of rebellion. He wanted me to be absolutely helpless, publicly humiliated, while I watched him snuff out the lives of every person I've given a damn about in the last decade."

"And the whole time, you were surrounded by people you worked with, weren't you?"

"Yes. I graduated from the Academy with a few of them. A couple of the younger ones from Coruscant I've known their entire lives. It was for them as much as me. _'Traitors are everywhere.'_ " He used his best mimic of Thrawn's voice, awful enough to make his friend snort, before he added quietly, "That's what the ISB wants everyone to see, all the time."

 _Breathe out. Breathe in._ His arms were wrapped tightly around him, but it didn't feel like enough support at all. Mindful of the artful construction of the ancient people who built this place, Kallus shifted his stance to lean slightly against the wall, eyes still on the courtyard below. "I wasn't able to get away until he made the terrible choice of leaving Governor Pryce in charge of the Fleet. She's easy to rile up, and once aggravated, she wants to remove the stressor instead of handling anything like an adult. Pryce ordered my guards to space me when I taunted her too much. I over-powered them in the turbolift and was able to get to an escape pod."

He chanced another look over at Zeb, and saw nothing but an almost overwhelming amount of pride and awe there. "You did good, Kal. You got a warning to us, and you got out. No amount of beating yourself up over it is going to change that."

There was that, but - "I just wish I could have done _more_ ," he admitted, voice cracking slightly as another tear escaped. "People died because I was too arrogant to realize he was probably on to me. If I'd left when Bridger had been sent in to extract me - "

Zeb was next to him now, hands at his sides, looking down at him. " - we might have all died at Lothal because Thrawn would have known when we were coming and we'd have no way of knowing that. Quit beating yourself up. There's no way of knowing what might have been, and no one's blaming you for anything."

"I'm not - "

"You are."

Kallus glared up at Zeb, frustrated, shaken, and annoyed that he had the nerve to glare back. It still didn’t give him the energy to fight when Zeb gripped his shoulders and pressed their foreheads together again. _Why does his touch keep stealing the fight from me?_ "Shut up and listen, because I'm not going to say this again. Thrawn's been an entirely different level of difficult to deal with than you or Vader were. Getting what information out that you did is a major achievement. Give yourself credit for that and be happy. You did everything you could to save us whenever you got the chance. You're not the person who gave those orders to hurt people, Kal. We all see that, and you're going to have to deal with it."

Hell. These people were hopeless and couldn't be trusted to avoid rushing in to save anybody: he'd been aware of that for years now. Of all the characteristics to find endearing, that had to be the one he liked the most. Imperials saved no one but themselves: Rebels saved everybody they could, whether the people being saved liked it or not. "I like that about you lot," he mumbled, "this savior complex. Lieutenant Andor was right though, you're all a bunch of meddling Corellian mothers."

"What? Am not!"

He chuckled. Lasat fur had such an interesting texture to it. Kallus raised a hand and stroked it over Zeb's arm, petting him until the former guardsman removed the opposite paw from his shoulder to capture his hand, exploring the long fingers and palm. Kallus sighed, and moved his head away again to look back out the window. "I thought I was going to die on the _Chimaera_ , and never know what happened to any of you. Thrawn was saying things the entire time, cruel things, enjoying watching me watch our ships blow up and telling me it was my fault. He'd tell me when he was going to kill me and how, like it was going to be some kind of gift to me to be killed by that bastard."

Zeb didn't say anything - what did one say to a statement like that? - but he did use the hand he still had in his grasp to pull Kallus to him and wrap the human in his large arms. The former Imperial agent buried his face in Zeb's uniform as he tried to push away the memories that bubbled up the the surface. 

Kallus was shaking again, the memory so vivid and real. He could smell the blue-skinned alien (clean, and powerful like ozone or lightning), see the freckles scattered across his face (and that aristocratic nose, so long and lean like the man himself), and hear his voice (like a snake in his ear, slithering in to whisper doubt). Everything had felt colder then, skin down to bones, and not just the natural cold from being on an Imperial Star Destroyer. Now he was surrounded by a heat that enveloped him and made him feel safe: a fire that might just rearrange his molecules into a stronger configuration. Then he took another breath in through his nose and a stronger, more welcome scent overpowered it. Zeb.

The shaking subsided, his mind calmed, and Kallus was able to feel a sense of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: I'm aware his plaque is naval. Fuck you, canon. You haven't given Pellaeon back, pimped his space ride without him, and then only brought me Rukh. What is this shit?  
> 2: [Didn't we call it ImpSec back in the day](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Imperial_Security_Bureau) instead of adding another syllable for ISB?  
> 3: Look, I know "Side Trip" got booted from canon, but Hal Horn totally somehow gave me the impression that Corellian parents meddle in your lives. Combine that with my mom and you've basically got Hera.  
> 4: The [PHQ-9](https://patient.info/doctor/patient-health-questionnaire-phq-9) is a questionnaire your doctor or nurse ask you to determine your level of depression. I don't think it's a stretch to see Internal Affairs using any means necessary to find officers compromised in any way.  
> 5: The [GAD-7](https://patient.info/doctor/patient-health-questionnaire-phq-9) measures the severity of Generalized Anxiety Disorder, which is awful to live with. It can manifest as a nagging voice of self-doubt, among other things, with depression, and with PTSD.  
> 6: The PHQ-9 and GAD-7 are like golf scores. Lower = better.  
> 7: No regrets.  
> 8: Rafe is my favorite baby name right now. I'm not having one yet, it's just my fave. It means "wolf".
> 
> Follow me on tumblr, I guess. Ask me stuff. Personal is [thebestblogeverofalltime](http://thebestblogeverofalltime.tumblr.com). Learn fun facts about how you can't bottom out in a butthole, how there's no true north in space, and how the Galactic Empire _doesn't use paper_! Writing blog is [ibreathethroughwords](http://ibreathethroughwords.tumblr.com). I just post writing stuff there.


	2. A Bed Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thick fingers on his hips flexed a little when Zeb's eyes widened in surprise. Kallus hadn't even told Rebel Command this much of his past, and hadn't intended to let that slip; however, if there was a chance this… this _whatever_ was going to evolve between them, they probably did need to discuss several things from his past and Zeb's.
> 
> \---  
> A conversation, and something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, my hand slipped and then porn happened.

Until the attack on Atollon, the worst part about switching sides hadn't been dealing with the cognitive dissonance or the lack of sleep from making certain he carefully covered his tracks. Part of the training for ISB agents included a fair amount of human psychology: he knew to expect cognitive dissonance, what to look for, and how successful turncoats before him had likely handled its jarring effects. Not sleeping much hardly bothered him by now: years of service to the Empire had given him a variety of coping methods for that. No, the worst part had been how much more surreptitious the stress became with the other two factors involved. Stress had pervaded his life: hiding it had been a struggle. Thrawn's confrontation had been a relief, in a way: Kallus no longer had to hide his atrophied loyalties to this abhorrent Empire. 

It hadn't felt like a relief for long. Even now, light-years away from the Chimaera, from Thrawn and Pryce, from the death troopers that had assisted in his torture and captivity, his body still sometimes ached in a million small places in memory of what had transpired weeks ago. Grand Admiral Thrawn had worked his body over well, and then started in on his psyche. Kallus's mind and heart were scarred in ways he hadn't known were possible.

Still, he'd lost the least out of any of the rebels Thrawn had come for that day. No friends or family of his had been at risk during the attack, save for Zeb, and he was fine. Kallus was safe: at least that had been a fast discussion, held somewhat out of his line of sight, but not his hearing range. He had shelter on the _Ghost_ , if not a space of his own, though he knew he did not deserve it, and doubted it would be free of animosity. For now, he was out of Thrawn's reach. 

All his pain was deserved, and he would not burden those his foolishness had harmed any further with the results of that idiocy. That wasn't the kind of man he wanted to be.

Instead, after thanking Kanan Jarrus, Kallus had found a section of wall more isolated to hide himself against. Staying out of the way had probably been the best thing to do. There were few places to sit and so many had been hurt worse than he was: the supplies had to go to them. Everyone was a mess and it was his fault. He hadn't been able to do anything useful, in the end, and might as well have just handed the coordinates to Thrawn. Had he only left with Bridger's extraction team instead of arrogantly assuming he could pull the wool over Thrawn's eyes…

Kallus made a soft, frustrated noise, shifting in his sleep on the medical bed. It was a moot point now: the damage was dealt, and he may as well have executed them himself. Over and over in his dream, the dead accused him of causing this. What damage would his pride cause in the future? His hands gripped the sheets. What had Thrawn taken the time to murmur while Pryce had been out of earshot?

_"You might as well imagine your precious bo-rifle at their throats, Kallus. After all, with your distinguished record, you must have heard so many death screams. Surely you can imagine what they all sound like now, dying in the cold vacuum of space."_

The blue-skinned bastard was right: it was disgustingly easy to imagine it. Kallus's eyes screwed even tighter in sleep as his mind replayed the battle he'd been forced to watch at blaster-point. Having to deal with that after the humiliation of having the second-highest ranking _navy officer_ in the Galactic Empire hand him ass in a proper fist fight, and use his warning to find those Kallus was trying to protect was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

A loud beeping followed by the quick footsteps of his nurse coming in to check on him woke Kallus from his nightmare. The alarm was silenced with a quick press of a button. "Another nightmare, Captain?" he asked, as the man set about making sure everything else was okay.

Kallus sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillow. Any semblance of restful sleep had eluded him since he'd been admitted to sickbay. Nightmares plagued him and he wanted to go back to his sort of home, where he could have the comfort of Zeb after visiting hours. "Yes," he grumbled, and allowed the comforting touch of the nurse's hand on his shoulder. "Same nightmare, almost exactly. This isn't working, me being here. My nightmares are worse."

"It's been two days," the nurse said, nodding in agreement. He frowned, then shook his head. "Okay. I'll speak to the doctor. Do you need anything else in the meantime?"

"No, thank you," Kallus said, and waved him off.

How long did it take a single man to find that bullheaded CMO and talk to her? Kallus dozed off twice, but didn't fall into a good sleep at all before another of the nurses let Zeb in to see him despite the lateness of the hour. His friend was tired, had definitely been woken up for this, but he was alert and visibly concerned. "Who'd you have to kill to get in here this late?" Kallus joked after a moment of the two of them looking at each other from opposite sides of the room. His words finally broke Zeb free of the door, and he stepped in, letting it close behind him so he could sit at the chair next to Kallus's bed. 

"Believe it or not, they actually asked me to come," Zeb informed him, leaning forward to get a good look at Kallus's face. 

"Really? Colonel 'If One Tongue Depressor Is Unaccounted For You'll All Swing For It" Dasheil asked you here after visiting hours?" Kallus wasn't entirely surprised. He could hardly get better if he wasn't sleeping, and since he was on IVs and monitoring until at least tomorrow, this wasn't entirely a bad solution. The worst best thing (or the best worst thing?) that had come out of this mess was the knowledge that Zeb had some kind of weird hold over him: Kallus found his smell calming and his touch tended to settle him. Why it was so, he had no idea, and wasn't sure he'd like any answers he chased.

"I'm as surprised as you are," Zeb said, and reached over for Kallus's hand. The look on his face offered little room for disobedience, so Kallus cooperated. Zeb's paw wrapped around his entire hand, reminding Kallus of the night he'd been admitted, when Zeb had gotten a fairly detailed summary of events out of him regarding the Battle of Atollon and Kallus's side of the story, and then had held him through the emotional aftermath that came along with telling it for the first time. Like his hand now, he'd been enveloped in body heat and purple fur, surrounded by Zeb's scent and muscle. It was the safest he'd felt since they'd crashed on that damn moon and made it out of the cave and onto the surface.

No one had done that for him in a long time. No one had simply sat with him and held his hand in a long time either.

Kallus relaxed into his pillows, looking down at their joined hands and the way the colors of Zeb's soft fur complimented his own pale flesh tones and the freckles visible on his wrist where the white of the long-sleeved medical shirt had ridden up a little. In the large chair next to the bed, Zeb was watching him. From his peripheral vision it was easy enough to see that the tips of his long ears had flattened slightly. He was in a particularly thoughtful mood at the moment as he observed the human he'd accidentally saved not so long ago.

"Have the medics talked to you about releasing you yet?" Zeb asked, breaking the silence. 

A shake of his head preceded the rest of his answer. "I got too pushy about it a couple times and now they won't discuss it," he explained, eyes still focused on their joined hands. "Just lying in bed all day is awful though: I can only handle it because they keep sedating me."

The ears flattened for a moment: Zeb pushed away the irritation instead of letting it out for once. "Well, Hera and I've been talking to them. We've all been talking, I mean, about how we've been treating you, about how you'd been acting before this, and uh…" the lasat trailed off. Whatever they'd decided on, he'd clearly argued for it, was embarrassed by his feelings on it or something, because Zeb started doing that awkward head scratching thing and looked away as soon as Kallus looked up at him. 

It reminded Kallus of the time one of his friends had been dared to propose an instructor at Royal Imperial their final year. She'd chickened out of it during preparation for the prank, but had almost similar mannerisms to Zeb when embarrassed. Kallus smothered a grin, raised an eyebrow, and waited another minute. When Zeb didn't say anything else, he decided a bit of a push was needed. With the previous incident in mind, he commented, "Zeb, if you're about to propose, I'm - "

That shocked him out of it. If Zeb was human he'd have been blushing from head to toe; instead, he kind of puffed up a bit, reminiscent of a startled loth-cat, or a baby chick seeking its mother's attention. The extra fluff was cute, and Kallus couldn't hide the amused smile. "What? N-n-no! It's not a proposal!" Zeb stammered, ears back and flat, and Kallus laughed. "Stop that!"

"Sorry," Kallus chuckled. "You're all fluffy and indignant right now."

"Whose fault is that?" Zeb grumbled.

Taking pity on him, Kallus pulled his hand free to pat the top of Zeb's instead. "My apologies. You're not proposing marriage. I understand. My heart is absolutely crushed, but I'll managed." He gave Zeb an easy grin to the lasat's irritated eye roll, but the ears perked back up, and Zeb turned his paw to recapture Kallus's hand. "What did you all talk about that has you so embarrassed, Zeb?"

"We never assigned you a bunk."

Ah. Kallus had wondered from time to time if they were ever going to realize that. He hadn't yet figured out why it bothered him, so he didn't see why they should be troubled by it. In this bed with the stupid bed alarm on it (he'd nearly successfully escaped the first night), he couldn't get away from the conversation, so he supposed he'd have to figure out how to explain his thoughts on that as well. "It's not like I have anything of my own," he pointed out, dodging the real issue so he could try to ignore that damnably annoying ache the topic brought back that started in his chest and shot through his arms and into his hands and made him want to cry, "and I've been trained to fall asleep where I need to. I've not needed one. It isn't an issue. There's no need to trouble yourselves even further on my account. Surely we can all agree I've caused enough of that." What else was he good at with them, aside from practically nothing, it seemed?

Zeb looked at him, and didn't say anything. Kallus refused to elaborate. He knew that interrogation tactic, and had used it countless times on other people. A bit of silence on the part of Zeb wasn't going to make him cave and explain. What was there to explain? Honestly, wasn't it all very straightforward? They stared each other down, Kallus's gaze growing more defiant by the second, Zeb's vexingly sympathetic. The lasat squeezed his hand, and Kallus almost broke, almost let a tsunami of idiocy come spilling out of his mouth. Excuses weren't necessary. If Zeb couldn't understand from what he said - 

"Making a physical space for you on the ship like we have in our lives isn't _trouble_ , mate. _You aren't causing us any trouble we aren't willing to go through for you._ It doesn't matter what you don't have," Zeb growled at him, "except that you don't have a space aboard your home to call your own. That ends today." How did he _do_ that, the thing with the sympathetic look and the voice that said he was contemplating strangling Kallus if he didn't start listening to reason?

"I… what?" Kallus asked, not expecting that to be the next thing out of Zeb's mouth.

"Ezra's got his own ship, and Sabine's on Mandalore more often than not. Ezra's moving his stuff still on the _Ghost_ into the other bunk in Sabine's room, and you're bunking with me. That's that." It was the most commanding tone Zeb had ever used with him, and it instinctively kicked in the well-drilled urge to obey and made him shiver. That voice was dangerous. 

Kallus quite liked it.

"Thank you," he said quietly, gratefully.

Zeb's eyes widened, and then his expression softened. "For doing what we should have done in the first place? That doesn't deserve thanks, Kal."

Kallus shook his head. "No, not for that."

"No?"

"For acknowledging the problem, for fixing it, for taking me in at all, for… for all of this. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you, Zeb. I'd still be committing war crimes in the name of peace." Kallus looked at him softly, taking in the way the night time lighting of sickbay lit his fur and his eyes. "Thank you for sticking by me."

Zeb gave him an awkward smile, embarrassed again, and gave his hand another squeeze. "I'd do it all again."

Kallus ducked his head slightly, cheeks turning a faint pink in the dim light. "So would I," he said, to the only person who knew most of what he'd been through, and meant it.

There was the sound of the chair scooting across the stone floor and then Zeb was close enough to the bed that Kallus could feel his body heat. "Get some sleep, Kal. I'll be here when you wake up."

\---

Zeb was true to his word. He was there when Kallus woke up, when the medics ran their last barrage of tests to clear him for active duty, when the on-duty physician and medical droid came in to give him an earful and the medical orders on a data card, signed by Colonel Dasheil, before remanding him into Zeb's care. Another incident like this, he was told, would result in a ground assignment and a very long lecture.

After he'd changed back into his newly cleaned uniform, they walked together around the grounds, not yet heading back to the _Ghost_. There was a sinking feeling in Kallus's stomach, like he wasn't ready to handle this yet. Zeb was explaining the remainder of the conditions regarding his release from medical to Kallus: that he was to eat when he was hungry, drink when he was thirsty, but that they would all be checking on him now; the room was _theirs_ , and Kallus was free to roam in and out of it as he pleased; that sort of thing. It was pleasing to think that they would be sharing even closer quarters. With all that had happened in the last couple days there was no point in Kallus continuing to deny that Zeb's presence had some kind of effect on him. What it was, he couldn't precisely name, save that sometimes it was calming, others it was an irritation, and a time or two in the last month he'd had to excuse himself to the 'fresher to seek a quick release with his hand in the shower. 

Living in close quarters, was that going to happen more frequently? The response baffled him. Kallus had been taught from birth that seeking a relationship outside his species was forbidden, was wrong, was _disgusting and beneath him_. Interspecies relationships, he'd been taught, were akin to bestiality: something for the inbred and uneducated. Certainly those in the socially elite classes of Coruscant would never have engaged in such a thing, save for those immoral, hypocritical military officers, politicians, business persons, and celebrities who owned slaves or kept lovers of other species hidden away while praising Palpatine's political agenda. Beauty was different to everyone, and so was sexual attraction: he'd never been repulsed by the idea of interspecies relations, but neither had he thought he'd find a member of another species attractive.

That was an idea he was going to have to come to terms with, he'd realized by the time they were ready to retire for the night. Kallus had nothing else to sleep in but the pair of black boxer-briefs he'd been wearing when he'd escaped, so he changed into them with his back to Zeb. The lasat was definitely looking (if the heavier breathing and the sensation of eyes boring into him were anything to go by), and by the time Kallus had finished precisely folding his uniform and putting it in a drawer for the night, Zeb was sitting with a pillow over his lap. 

Kallus didn't bother using the ladder to climb into his bunk. He was tall enough and strong enough that a bit of leverage was all he needed. The blankets Ezra had left him were soft, and the mattress was nothing like any bunk he'd ever had on an Imperial ship or base. It was so soft, almost as soft as the one he'd had as a child, and the pillow wasn't stiff and unyielding. The blankets felt good against his skin, and Kallus wrapped himself in them, pleased by the clean smell as much as the texture. Ages of paranoia still had him roll so he faced the door: after another few minutes, it gave him a lovely view of Zeb undressing for the night. 

When Zeb wasn't facing him, Kallus let his eyes roam, trying to figure out his own state of attraction. Intellectually, they were very compatible: even pretending to deny that would be criminal. When it came to emotions, things seemed to go all right. Kallus hadn't had anywhere near the same level of difficulty with Zeb that he tended to experience with others in discussing his feelings. Physically, well… it certainly didn't hurt to look. Zeb had the body of the proverbial humanoid god, all magnificent coloring and hard lines, as a male humanoid ought to be. It was definitely how Kallus preferred his male partners. The striping pattern of his fur was gorgeous: the darker stripes boldly standing out even in the dimmer lighting. It couldn't hide his strong build, the large muscles obvious even when Kallus had to close his eyes most of the way to avoid Zeb seeing him watch him strip down and change. Of course, there was also the anatomical gift that hung between his legs. _Would getting to ride that be a blessing or a traumatic event?_ he asked himself, awestruck. His own cock stirred at the sight, and Kallus bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to get it to go away. Zeb was right there, pulling on proper pajamas as he sniffed the air. 

Oh, of course. Lasats and their damnable sense of smell. Desperate to hide his blush before Zeb turned back around, Kallus carefully tugged the blanket up a little farther and hid his face. Zeb could probably smell that he was hard, whatever human arousal smelled like to a lasat. Kallus knew what it smelled like to a human, knew how close he would have had to get to a hard cock to catch the scent of pre-cum. He wondered how close he would have to get to that majestically shaped cock to smell it, and stifled a moan as his twitched in interest at the question.

_You are not helping yourself,_ he scolded himself, working fast to quell the arousal and any sense of hope that whatever was happening between them could go beyond flirtation. _Quit that. It doesn't matter if he's moved on, helping wipe out his entire planet makes you a highly inappropriate mate for him. What happened to no relationships?_

It worked. A little. Kallus supposed he could use that as a measure for how badly the Empire had ruined him. _Lie back and think of genocide,_ he quipped wryly.

When he opened his eyes again, the lights were off, and Zeb was in bed. Neither of them were asleep. Both were being unnaturally still, as though trying to fool the other into falling asleep first. Kallus shifted a little, trying to relax, still attempting to will his erection down. He focused on slowing his breathing, and was finally succeeding at going soft when he heard a soft groan below him. 

The breathy sound hit his lungs like a punch to the solar plexus and knocked his breath away. Another followed, and Kallus could hear the sound of Zeb's hand sliding over… Oh. He gasped as his erection swelled with renewed interest, and Zeb froze. Kallus heard him shifting and panicked, quickly shifting to put his back to the door so Zeb couldn't see his face or get a look at how interested the human was in the proceedings on the lower bunk if he decided to stand up and check on him. For several moments he was very, very still, hardly breathing at all. Dealing with alien species could be problematic sometimes, especially when it came to private things like this. If there was some sort of social taboo connected with masturbation and Kallus had somehow violated it by daring to be conscious, it could cause a lot of unneeded trouble. 

Eventually, Zeb must have decided all was well, because he went back to his task with quiet enthusiasm. Unlike Kallus, who only bothered with it when masturbation was necessary to relieve tension and therefore was quick and efficient in his release, Zeb took his time. It was torturous, listening to his quiet gasps and moans as he teased himself toward orgasm, trapped in his bunk and unable to get himself off because Zeb stopped if he so much as twitched or changed his breathing pattern. Kallus wanted to cry from how desperately hard he was by the fourth time Zeb stopped because Kallus shifted against the bunk. The other male had to know he was awake, had to be able to smell his arousal, and hear his heart pounding and was being utterly cruel to him in spite of it.

The next time he had to move, Kallus rolled onto his back and tugged his underwear down to mid-thigh in the same, smooth motion. Zeb growled in frustration, and Kallus barely held back a retort. Clearly his role in this thing he shouldn't even be going along with was to pretend to be asleep but he needed to cum, dammit, and Zeb was going to have to deal with that. His cock was drooling pre-cum now, pooling onto his belly. _Fuck this_ , he thought, and reached down to take himself in hand after running his fingers through the wetness. He'd stay relatively quiet, if that's what Zeb wanted, but that was all the compromise he was still willing to give.

A breathy little moan when he swiped his thumb over the head before gliding it down the underside was the only sound Kallus made. It was enough to get Zeb started again. A groan, louder than any noise either of them had made so far, escaped him as Kallus began stroking himself in earnest. He closed his eyes as he worked himself, not needing to focus on his hand. What Kallus wanted was to listen to Zeb, to hear the noises he made and use them to guess what he was doing to down there, out of sight. _Maker_ , but he wanted to see it, however much it went against the rules of whatever this was. He thought of the way Zeb had pressed their foreheads together to comfort him, wondered if would do that while buried inside him, and that was it for him. Orgasm hit him hard as his hips snapped up against his hand a final time, and Kallus whimpered Zeb's name as he came, shooting over his chest and stomach. The lasat didn't last long after that. Kallus settled back down against the mattress, stroking himself with a tight fist through the rest of his orgasm, listening to Zeb growl out his name from the lower bunk. 

It was the hottest thing he'd ever heard in his life. 

His underwear was a mess now from not kicking it down far enough. Way too tired to bother getting up to clean off, Kallus tugged it off the rest of the way, and used it to wipe the cum off his chest before falling asleep.

\---

Morning came far too soon for Kallus's liking, but his body knew when it was time to get up. He yawned and stretched, muscles feeling better than they had in a long time. The bed was soft, and it took him a second after he open his eyes to remember where he was and why. All the blankets he'd been given were wrapped tightly around his naked body, and he blushed from head to toe as he remembered why he was naked. Zeb. That had been a thing that had happened. Sure, they'd been slowly getting closer to each other, but last night had certainly been unexpected. Could he even Zeb in the eye?

Did he have to?

Kallus leaned his head over the side of the bunk. Zeb was gone.

He dragged himself out of bed, found a warm, wet washcloth left for him to clean up with, and dressed quickly. His underwear and spare clothing were mysteriously gone, but Kallus shrugged it off. Now that he was up and dressed, hair beaten into some semblance of order, they'd be expecting him to go and eat something under the eyes of a witness.

Company wasn't far off at all. Ezra was waiting to ambush him right outside the door. "Oh good, you're up!" he said, too cheerfully for a teenager in the morning. Honestly, was he even a real human? Sometimes Kallus wasn't so sure. Had Kanan started letting the kid have caf? No one as energetic as Ezra needed caffeine anywhere near them. Ever. In their lives. "Hera wants you to come eat with us in the Officer's Mess in the Massassi Temple, and then we have a surprise for you."

Oh joy. Surprises. That's probably what had him in such good spirits. Far be it from him to rain on their parade so soon. Kallus hadn't had his caf yet. "I see," he said and stifled a yawn. "Fine. Lead the way."

Ezra looked up at him like Kallus was the one behaving suspiciously. "That's all you have to say?" he asked. Disbelief was clearly etched across his face.

"I only just woke up. I'm not awake enough to give you a dissertation on it, Bridger," Kallus responded, throwing a bit more irritation into his response as he gestured for the boy to get on with leading the way there already. Nothing was going to be accomplished today by arguing in the corridors of the _Ghost_.

"Uh…" Ezra paused. "What's a dissertation?"

Kallus put a hand on the young man's shoulder, noticed with some surprise that he'd grown another few centimeters sometime in the last few days, and began steering Ezra out of the ship. The start of another spurt, or the end of one? "One of the many horrors of academia," he answered grimly. It was a requirement both for graduation from the ISB Academy and for the extra licensure to train recruits in the field. A few of the specialized academies required that specific type of work before graduation. "It's a rather long article that is thoroughly researched, well-substantiated with support from other authors who've written in that field, and is usually at least 20 pages long."

"Yeah, I don't want one of those. I was just sent to bring you to breakfast."

A snort of laughter escaped him. "All the more reason to get there quickly then. You grew again: you're probably starving."

"I did?" Ezra's eyes widened with glee as he stopped for a second to think about where he was looking on Kallus. "I did! My eyes aren't level with your collarbone anymore." 

Kallus reached down to ruffle what hair the kid had and kept walking. "Keep it up and one day you might be tall," he teased, heading toward the Officer's Mess.

"That's how all growing works!" Ezra muttered after him, and rushed to keep up.

The walk to meet the others was short. Kallus spent it gently picking on Ezra, who nevertheless seemed to enjoy the attention he was getting. It served as an excellent distraction from his misgivings about having to see Zeb again. It turned out there was no need to worry. Zeb wasn't there for breakfast, for lunch, for the extra clothing they'd found for him, or for forcing him to sit and watch crappy holovids that were underhanded attempts at Imperial propaganda that Kallus and Ezra spent the entire time roasting when they weren't snarking at each other for Kanan and Hera's amusement.

By the time Zeb caught up with them, they were heading to dinner. He greeted Kallus normally, and Kallus did the same, though he pretended not to notice that Zeb was sporting a couple of new bandages. They retired before the other three after that, because Zeb had something he wanted to talk to him about.

"We got a call early this morning," he said, once they were alone in their quarters aboard the _Ghost_. "Another Fulcrum agent happened across some of your things after your quarters on Lothal were cleared out and delivered them to us at a drop off point. They've been cleared of tracking devices and all electronics. Some of the techs met us at a separate drop off point to double-check while we waited to see if we were followed, but the lieutenant 1 who passed them off was pretty sincere about getting it to you. Said you'd need it for whatever Thrawn's planning."

Zeb gestured toward a chest in the corner of their room, and Kallus's eyes widened. He walked to it, surprised to see it again, and opened it. "Oh," he breathed, and pulled out his bo-rifle. Kallus had made piece with the thought that he'd never see it again unless it was pointed back at him, but here it was, safely back in his hands. Also in the chest were clothing - mostly spare uniforms, which Rebel Intelligence could have - a few data cards, some mementos from home, and the meteor. He pulled that out with a blush, pleased it was unharmed.

"You kept it," murmured Zeb from behind him once Kallus had straightened. One paw gripped his hip as the lasat leaned over Kallus's shoulder for a closer look. "Figured you'd leave it behind."

"No," Kallus replied distractedly. Nearly all of his focus was on not leaning back against Zeb. "It was useful, and it gave me a lot to think about. I had to hide it, of course, but it kept me warm at night. I've never had that before."

Behind him, Zeb made a thoughtful noise, and a hand rested on his other hip, drawing him back against the hard lines of Zeb's body. "You don't have to sleep alone if you don't want to, Kallus," he said shyly. "I mean, if that's something that bothers you."

Kallus blushed, remembering last night. "I wouldn't want to… ah… 'Get in the way'."

"You wouldn't. I'm sure some things might even go a bit easier." Zeb ducked his head to nuzzle Kallus's neck. "'Course, you can tell me to piss right off if you want to, and I'll listen to you. But I think you're not getting everything you need, and maybe I can help you with that."

He'd just been propositioned by his former enemy, now friend. Hell. Kallus tipped his head back, giving Zeb access to his neck without really thinking about it. Lips pressed to it, then a cool nose as the lasat breathed him in. "You still smell like last night," he commented gruffly. "You were so hard up for it. Wondered how long it would take to get you to the point you couldn't hold out anymore."

How long until - ? Kallus turned to face Zeb, looking up at him suspiciously. "You knew?" he accused. "You… what? Kept me on the edge all that time on purpose?"

Zeb laughed nervously. "Well, at first I wasn't sure if you were awake. Didn't want you to be offended by it. Humans have some weird cultural hang ups about sex sometimes."2

They could, he supposed. One of the classes in the junior academy he'd attended after boarding school had covered such things. Kallus shrugged. "It's not a big deal on Coruscant. I might have ended up in an arranged marriage due to my family's political position had I not applied to the Royal Imperial Academy, but such things are openly discussed and sex is quite freely had. At least, it is amongst the humans in the socioeconomic class I was born to. I can't speak for anyone else."3

The thick fingers on his hips flexed a little when Zeb's eyes widened in surprise. Kallus hadn't even told Rebel Command this much of his past, and hadn't intended to let that slip; however, if there was a chance this… this _whatever_ was going to evolve between them, they probably did need to discuss several things from his past and Zeb's. History was important to humans - to many beings - and on the off-chance any of this was brought up to be used against him, it wouldn't hurt to have one person who'd heard it all from him first. Zeb opened his mouth to speak, and Kallus laid his left index finger over Zeb's lips to stop him.

"Hold on. Before either of us says anything else: this goes no further than you and I unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I've not told Rebel Command, nor do I intend to, and very few of my former - ah… coworkers knew."

A look of uncertainty flashed over Zeb's face, but he nodded. "All right. Maybe we should move to the bed then, unless you want to stand here all night."

"Please," Kallus said, and didn't suppress the shiver that went right through to his dick when Zeb hooked his fingers through Kallus's belt loops to tug him over to his bunk. Both of them were too tall to easily sit on it, so Kallus shrugged off his jacket, boots, belt, and holster, and let Zeb maneuver him onto the bunk. It was deep enough that they both fit if they lie on their sides. Zeb set the meteor on a slot in the bunk behind them, where it cast its light over them once again. Kallus tangled their legs together, settled his head back far enough that he could look at Zeb, and gave him a small, encouraging smile when his paw ended up on the human's hip again. In this position it felt like a far more intimate touch, and brought a flush to the former agent's cheeks.

"Your family, they're well-off then?" Zeb asked, propping his head up on his other paw. It had the effect of making it look like he was still looming over Kallus. Standing up, it had a minimal effect on him: in bed, it was practically intoxicating.

Kallus exhaled quickly, gathered his composure, and nodded. Right. They were talking first. Talking, and then maybe something else. "They are. Old, old, _old_ money. The men in my family almost always go into politics, and their partners are married in from other well-to-do families from other Core Worlds or from Coruscant. Mother… she's an actress and works under her stage name. My father does something particularly shady with politics that he's never discussed. I'm not even sure what his title is: I just know he holds a good deal of power and has since Grandfather retired a decade ago."

That long thumb on the front of his hip shifted, rubbing back and forth over the sensitive skin that covered the bone through the fabric of Kallus's uniform pants. "You ever try and look into it?" 

"My security clearance was high, but it wasn't that high. I'd also have gotten into a lot of trouble. COMPNOR agents are held to a more rigorous standard than military officers: using security clearance to protect your family could end up backfiring painfully for them and for you. It was too risky, so I never bothered."

Zeb sighed softly, shifted a little closer. Kallus breathed him in for a minute, trying to relax. Discussing his family made him tense: Father hadn't taken well at all to his son applying to the Imperial Academy system, nor had he appreciated that Kallus was on Coruscant and not at all under his thumb. Speaking of thumbs: it was getting harder and harder not to arch into the pressure on his hip. Certain nerve-endings were definitely paying attention to having Zeb so close to him and touching him like that.

"'Rafe', though?"

Kallus rolled his eyes and huffed in irritation. "Are you still on that? It's a very shortened form of a much longer contracted name but it comes from 'counsel' and 'wolf' in my mother's native tongue. It was my maternal grandfather's first name. He died of old age a few weeks before I was born."4

That got a weird look out of Zeb. "They gave you a dead man's name?"

"It's a fairly common human tradition," he explained. Did the lasat culture consider that bad luck? They had to run out of names at some point if they had that point of view, didn't they? Kallus was quiet for a moment, thinking of how to frame his answer in a way that would make at least some sense to Zeb. "Mother was close to her father, and so she honored him by naming her first-born after him. Then it turned out I would be the only child for whatever reason, and she was glad Father hadn't been able to talk her out of it. It was one of the last things she told me before I started at Royal Imperial."

It was the last time they'd spoken. 

Kallus looked up at Zeb, tired of reliving memories for now, and doing his best to convey that with his expression. Making new ones to replace the bad ones was just as important as sharing where he'd come from. Maybe Zeb had seen it in his face, smelled it on him, or maybe he simply felt similarly. "You don't have to get it all out at once," he said, shifting so he was looming more over Kallus. The grip on his hipbone tightened and it took all Kallus had in him not to whimper.

"No, I don't," Kallus agreed, voice much quieter now that there were mere centimeters between them. "I take it you have something else in mind we can _discuss_."

"I might." Zeb smirked down at him, and rolled them so he was on top of Kallus, pressing the smaller being into the soft mattress. "Us, for starters. You look good right there. How'd you like to keep that position?"

_There would be nothing better in all the galaxies of the universe,_ Kallus knew, but smirked back instead. He slid his hands up Zeb's arms, across his broad shoulders, and over the back of his head to trace his ears. The tips were sensitive, but Zeb's eyes slid shut at having the backs of them stroked. "Hmm. What are the perks?"

"Oh, I can think of all kinds of perks to offer you. Question is: what kind of perks do you want, Kal?"

Kallus massaged Zeb's ears, and worked his way toward the back of his head. "Exclusivity. I'll even stop flirting with the ground staff, if you want." 

It was a good answer: his reward was a devilish grin and Zeb's hand sliding from his hip, down his thigh, and back up. "So long as it goes back ways."

"I'm all yours," Kallus said seriously. "Putting a name to what I'm feeling for you is a bit beyond what I'm ready for at the moment, but I don't want anyone else. I'm trying to come to terms with that."

The lasat blinked at him for a moment, wandering hand stilling on Kallus's side. "Fair enough. Labels aren't important." He brought their foreheads together again with a gentle _thunk_ that might have been painful if Kallus's long and storied career hadn't involved so many trips to medical for concussions. "Neither of us are ready to go naming feelings yet."

Good. That was good. Feelings on both sides. Neither of them ready for saying 'I love you' or anything of the sort. Zeb nuzzled him, and Kallus tilted his head to the side to make it easier for him. The kiss on his neck was a bonus. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Marking you with my scent. Anybody with a good enough nose gets close to you, they're going to know you're taken." Kallus blushed at that, and turned his head to kiss Zeb's cheek. He didn't mind the short fur there against his lips.

"You growled at the medical staff before," he pointed out.

Zeb switched sides, and Kallus let him, quite pleased. "So?"

"Any other displays of possessiveness I should watch out for, or things I should avoid doing that will trigger them?"

"Dunno. Guess we'll find out when they happen."

It was the cheeky tone, most likely, that result in a quick nip to his neck that had those fangs of Zeb's scraping over his skin far too lightly. Kallus gasped and clung tighter. "You should do that again," he suggested. "Often. Right now is good, I've nothing else planned."

"Nah. Think I'll make you wait." Zeb lifted his head and smirked down at Kallus. "You wanna talk about anything else first."

Oh, the thoughts he was having just from looking at that smirk. Over the last five years he'd seen the larger male smirk at him in a variety of ways, but never had one gone right to his dick like this. "I don't know, you mentioned perks. Figured you'd offer me a large benefits package."5

Zeb ground their hips together, and Kallus bit his lip. Okay, yes. It was a bad pun, and he deserved to be teased like that. Of all the things he remembered from last night, the size of the lasat was freshest in his mind. "Hope this is what you had in mind. We can negotiate the rest later."

"In that case, Zeb, you'll have to convince me that I belong right here beneath you."

It had been the right thing to say, Kallus would recall later. The lasat had wasted no time in brushing their lips together for a kiss that didn't last nearly long enough for Kallus's liking (though if he had his way, they'd never stop). They didn't even bother removing all of their clothing: it just had to be out of the way for now, because Kallus was desperate. Zeb couldn't stop scenting his neck while they rocked together, as though the smell of Kallus turned on and ready to beg was a drug he could sniff to get high. 

Like a pair of inexperienced teenagers, it was over embarrassingly quickly. Kallus hadn't cum that fast since he was nineteen and first started fumbling around with others in storage closets between classes. It took him a while to come down from the haze of hormones and remember to unclench his thighs from where they'd ended up wrapped around Zeb's hips. Kallus was covered in cum, most of it not his. Realizing how much of it wasn't his turned him on: if he could talk Zeb into not using protection Kallus was going to do it. The mess of sex was something that generally turned him off immediately after he finished but the thought of having all of that dripping out of his wrecked hole afterward was still enticing despite the completion of the act.

Zeb shifted to stretch out next to him, and Kallus let him, though he turned his head to watch as Zeb dragged a finger through the mess on his chest. 

"You're a mess," he drawled. "But it's a good look on you. Didn't even get your clothes off you."

The brown uniform shirt was bunched up around his collarbone, and Kallus had only freed one leg from his pants: anything more was wasted motion that detracted from getting to what they both wanted. "How do I look?" he asked, stretching. Zeb seemed enchanted with the sight, watching Kallus's hips shift as he kicked his pants off the other leg as well.

"I can't think of the word in Basic," he murmured, and slid his fingers back through the cum, smearing it, spreading it over Kallus's chest. "I think 'delectable' is the closest to what I'm thinking of. Never thought a human would look so good covered in this stuff."

An eyebrow raise was his best immediate response to that. Then, "Perhaps in the future we could explore putting it elsewhere?"

It was the closest Kallus thought he'd ever come to outright asking to be fucked. Zeb's mind seemed to implode on itself. "You're gonna kill me, talking like that." He rolled away, slid off the bed, and offered Kallus a paw. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up. Makes making another mess more fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: I'm going to give you a hint: his name has some letters. Some are vowels, and some are not.   
> 2: Seriously, we're fucked up about fucking.  
> 3: TV and movies tell me rich people fuck each other a lot. *shrug*  
> 4: If you Google "Rafe" you'll find a lot of meanings. I'm a fan of using [Behind The Name](http://www.behindthename.com) myself, especially if I need to know where a name came from. This was my source for the above name meaning.  
> 5: That was my wife's pun that I was half-dared to/half latched on to adding and we've decided as a team not to apologize. #unitedfront #marriedlife #dealwithit


	3. A Life Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Empire supports cruelty like Thrawn's, and encourages it - it encourages far, _far_ worse than that. Citizens are numbers on a spreadsheet to it, statistics, not intelligent beings with independent thoughts, fears, lives, _value_. People are what I signed up to protect, not mass murderers, and I lost that somewhere along the way. _Zeb found that part of me on Bahryn and gave it back._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for _Thrawn_ in this chapter, mostly related to the Battle of Batonn. This is briefly mentioned in S3E1, _Steps into Shadow_. There's also some pretty rough sex, and that rounds up this portion of the story!

It was just Kallus and Rex on the bridge when the call came in from Command that the Empire had officially made their move to discredit him and make his family a target. Kallus didn't particularly care much about them being targets as he hadn't spoken to them since his first day at Royal Imperial. His mother was the better known of his parents, having been actress for all of his life and then some, and she gave a beautiful performance next to her husband. Someone had given her an old-fashioned handkerchief to cry into and she used the prop well, feigning tiny little sniffles next to Father as Kallus was formally disowned. Mother would be soaking up the attention, he knew. 

She hadn't aged a day, or so it appeared. Makeup, hair color and treatments to keep it full and strawberry blond, minor cosmetic injections, and an excellent seamstress worked well together to make her look as Kallus last remembered seeing her twenty-five years ago when they permitted him to start at the Royal Imperial Academy and pretended to be proud, loving parents for the final time. Back then she had kept her nails longer and painted with elaborate designs she'd said had fascinated him as a baby. They were short now, and painted simply. Mother had lost weight as well: she had never looked so dainty and frail in his life, with such thin wrist bones. Her hands had liver spots - fair enough, for a woman rapidly closing on seventy years of age - but she seemed to have not seen the sun in a while. Gone were the all-over freckles Kallus had inherited from her. Perhaps she was ailing. He didn't really care.

Father had changed, but somewhat less care had been taken to cover the effects of it. Older men were generally given far more respect for showing it. Age had slightly stooped his back, and turned his formerly blonde hair white (and Kallus was relieved to see that his head of hair was no less full than it had been during his childhood), and gained a bit of weight around the middle. The man still looked as regal and dignified as ever. His glare - which Kallus had inherited down to the eye color - had become far more intimidating. Personally, Kallus was attributing that to a lack of exposure.

His speech was clipped, short, and utterly impersonal. It didn't bother him at all to disown his only legal heir for daring to shame and embarrass the family. So long as Kallus remained a Rebel and a traitor to the Galactic Empire he was no son of theirs. That was that. It shouldn't have hurt at all given the time and distance between them, but it had. Weirder still was the follow up press conference. ISB agents escorted his parents off-camera, and Kallus and Rex watched in silence as his former superiors took their place.

Kallus tensed in preparation of what they might say. The Imperial Security Bureau had no known procedure for handling an agent who had defected because it had never happened before. Defecting was unthinkable for anyone who worked in a COMPNOR agency. Now that it had happened, however they handled his escape would set the bar and procedures for anything to follow. This incident held double the embarrassment for the ISB, and Kallus was sure if they caught him they'd have to come down twice as hard on him as anybody else: he held the rank of commander, and was an executive agent working in the top two branches. That alone had enabled him to pass on quite a bit of information to the rebellion before Thrawn had even caught on to his existence, and then managed to capture him.

Rex leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. Kallus glanced at him and gave him a small nod, grateful for the act of comfort. _It would be Colonel Yularen,_ he grumbled to himself. While he'd been in the ISB Academy Kallus had looked up to the man. Yularen was excellent to his students, and good at his job. He'd never had too harsh a word for a student who hadn't truly earned it, and had that perfect touch of being able to get the gist of a concept across while leaving enough room for his students to learn more about it on their own. Kallus had genuinely liked the man, respected him even, despite learning that he'd played some role in the massacre on Botann. If they were hoping to guilt him with his presence and disappointment, however, they were sorely mistaken.

The brief given to the press was the usual given for criminals of the Empire: honestly, it was insulting. Rex flat-out laughed when Kallus gave the holo an offended look for suggesting he was merely "armed and dangerous." Kallus had been one of their top agents, one of their absolute best profilers when it came to identify true dissidents, and one of very few agents to work across multiple branches. "I'll show them 'armed and dangerous,'" he muttered darkly. " _Honestly._ "

"Pride stinging a bit there?"

"I had the best conviction rate for the past decade! I'd never lost a fight, except to you lot! ' _Armed and dangerous!_ " Kallus rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and huffed. "Thrawn must have scripted this. Yularen would know better."

Rex chuckled and patted his shoulder. "He did kick your ass pretty thoroughly. Wouldn't be anything to a guy like that to downplay the threat to rile you up into doing something stupid." 

It was a good point, and Kallus knew that was the reason behind it. "I'm perfectly aware, but that doesn't make it less insulting."

"Ah, but what can you do?"

Kallus snorted. "With his love of art? It's tempting to find the most revered piece of art in the galaxy and horrifically defile it just to get under his skin. He'd lose his mind over it. Thrawn has a private gallery in his office and his quarters as well as a large holographic collection. According to him, it's the best way to study one's enemies." Privately, Kallus was glad he'd not gone into psychology or any other related medical field. Someone like that with an M.D. would have been even more of a menace.

"What did art ever do to you? Just replace it all with little kids' drawings. He doesn't have his fancy art, and parents have free space in their galleys to put other stuff." 

"He'd know the kids' species, socioeconomic backgrounds, home lives, and who knows what else about their planets' defenses and militaries within seconds. Believe me, not worth the effort."

The broadcast ended, and Kallus leaned back in the co-pilot's seat. "That bad, huh?" Rex asked casually.

This whole opening up to the crew thing was slow-going, but Kallus was trying to get better about it. Rex was easy. Zeb was easy. Kanan was annoying, and so Kallus had learned that he might as well just get it over with and answer whatever the hell Kanan was going to bother him about. Talking about Thrawn was still difficult, though, no matter who it was, but he was improving. Every day away from the Empire, every day away from Thrawn, made it a little easier to lower his guard. "No one can walk into his office without being asked to talk about some piece of art. The more you can tell him, the sooner he gets to the point of calling you to report, and the sooner you get to leave."

Rex made a face that pretty much looked like how he felt about it, and Kallus nodded. "I like art as much as the average person does, but not more than that."

Behind them, the door slid open. Hera was up early, and both stood to greet her. Old habits died hard: when the commander enters the room, you come to attention. "Good morning, boys. I heard something about a broadcast?" she greeted them.

Rex and Kallus exchanged a look, silently arguing over who was going to talk about the broadcast. It became clear rather quickly that the older man wanted Kallus to stay and discuss it because it was his parents. Hera watched them work it out with something like approval on her face, and hide a grin when Kallus capitulated by rolled his eyes and Rex patted his shoulder and left the room, saying something about keeping the kids out.

"That bad?" Hera asked, raising an eyebrow at him and gesturing for him to sit. Kallus did so, but sat at attention, rather nervous about this. Just because Rex had seemed to take it in stride didn't mean anybody else would. The second they all found out Zeb already knew quite a bit about his past that he hadn't seen fit to bother with telling anybody of a higher rank, there could be trouble. Ezra in particular could be a pain if he thought anybody was hiding something, and they all knew Kallus potentially had a lot to hide. They weren't wrong. 

"We've been waiting to see if the Empire would declare me dead instead of AWOL and quietly pursue me or not. They've made up their minds," he answered stiffly, unable to keep all the bitterness out of his voice. "They chose 'or not'."

Hera looked as surprised as he had, and he couldn't blame her. This was something they'd discussed at length now that he'd been missing for three months and they'd been unable to reclaim him. Every single account he'd scattered through various worlds had been found and seized, his assets either held by the Empire or given to his parents, and increasingly large bounties placed on his head. "That's surprising," she finally commented, wide-eyed. "It's a massive embarrassment for them to publicly admit that failure, isn't it?"

Kallus nodded. "Yes. I suppose Father caught wind of the bounty and felt it a slight against the family. ISB may have informed them at first I'd been killed in the line of duty, or that I was AWOL, but something has clearly changed. I was officially and publicly disowned by my parents this morning for my defiance of the New Order and betrayal of the Empire."

She frowned, wanted to say something, but Kallus shook his head as he called up the playback of the broadcast for her. "I haven't spoken to them since I was sixteen and we were never close. It's fine." He hit play, and they watched it in silence.

"And that's how it is," he muttered. "Every life form in the galaxy is looking for me now."

"They're not doing the public any favors by understating your skill level. Then again, maybe they know you're not going to go around hurting innocent people like they do," Hera said kindly. She looked at him with those big green eyes, like she wanted to hug him. In a weird way, he wanted to let her. Kallus had just lost his mother permanently, and Hera was forever mothering every single one of them. 

It was an odd impulse. He looked out the viewport instead. "Have you heard of the Battle of Batonn?" he asked instead, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Rumors," she answered, turning her chair to watch him. Peripherally, he could see her eyes linger on his jaw, then his hands tightly gripping his biceps. 

"Thrawn's victory at Batonn won him his promotion to Grand Admiral from the Emperor himself. He climbed the ranks unusually fast, but that one…" Kallus shook his head. "Honestly, it shouldn't have resulted in a promotion, except that his task force relieved another admiral's, who wasn't handling the siege well at all." Hera had leaned forward and was following his words closely now. Getting him to open up to her had been hard: he didn't want to disappoint her, or any of the faith she seemed to have in him now that he had switched sides and joined the rebellion. He wanted her to understand what had been part of that final push.

He shifted in his seat, gathered himself, and turned to face her. With Hera, at least, there was no need to hide the hatred in his voice or face for Thrawn and the Empire. "The number of civilian casualties outnumbered that of the insurgents there by thousands. They imploded a mine beneath a localized shield after sneaking an ISB agent in to plant the charges. None of the insurgent's hostages were removes first. No one was evacuated from their homes first. All those people died because of Thrawn, and the ISB, and the Empire."

There was a long sober silence between them: Hera looked at him in shock, while Kallus decided how to say what he wanted to say next. Unsure if it was the best phrasing, he scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "When I first met Thrawn, that was the reason he gave Admiral Konstantine as to why he'd been promoted to grand admiral. When I pointed out the number of casualties, Governor Pryce defended Grand Admiral Thrawn, saying that it was within acceptable limits because it had wiped out all of the insurgents at the time. It made me so angry. I was only just coming to terms with what I'd done on Lasan, and a few days before had managed to break into the file for Geonosis to find out why all the bugs were dead. Those people's lives never mattered to them." His voice broke in he middle of the last sentence and he gave up his perfect posture for something more honest. Forearms on his knees, he clasped his hands together in front of him and leaned forward.

"Kallus," she murmured. The tone of her voice was familiar to him. Most people didn't know what to say to him lately. "I don't - "

He held up a hand, and she fell silent. "My point is, my parents support the Empire. The Empire supports cruelty like Thrawn's, and encourages it - it encourages far, _far_ worse than that. Citizens are numbers on a spreadsheet to it, statistics, not intelligent beings with independent thoughts, fears, lives, _value_. People are what I signed up to protect, not mass murderers, and I lost that somewhere along the way. _Zeb found that part of me on Bahryn and gave it back._ If my old family wants to disown me, it's perfectly okay, Hera. It's not where I belong, nor is it where I want to be."

If he'd ever been consistent at anything, Kallus supposed it had been surprising the crew of the Ghost. Hera's mouth had fallen open in surprise, and she looked as though she couldn't decide if she wanted to hug him or give him an award. "Okay," she said eventually, and smiled warmly. "I understand. You might have to explain that to everybody, but I get it. You're right where you belong, Kallus."

When she said it, he knew it, in his heart. It was rare he gave anybody a genuine smile, save for Zeb, but he smiled for Hera. "Yes," he replied. "I know."

\---

Everyone else was in bed when Kallus returned to his and Zeb's bunk, including the lasat. He was as naked as Kallus had left him last night, which made it much more satisfying to hit the electronic lock on the door and crawl into the bunk once he'd stripped down. True to his usual nature, Zeb had sprawled out on his back as soon as Kallus got up. The solution that was easy enough: crawl under the blankets and use Zeb as his bed instead. Having the warm, naked human on him typically woke his lover up quickly enough that he'd soon move them both into a more comfortable position.

Today was no exception. It took all of two minutes and thirty-seven seconds for Zeb to wake up enough to realize Kallus has decided to use him as the bed again, and another two seconds for him to flip their positions so that Kallus was on his back and Zeb was stretched out on top of the human. "Been waiting for you to come back."

The evidence of that was pressing insistently into the inside of his thigh, the wet tip nudging against the underside of his balls. Kallus chuckled and shifted so that he could spread his legs a little. Alone with Zeb, his mind was aware again that he was probably still relaxed enough for another go, that he felt achingly empty. It would be a delightfully good distraction. A solid pounding was what he needed, but would Zeb give it to him?

"That so?" Kallus reached an arm up to the shelf above their bunk, having long-since memorized where their lubricant was from most any point on the bed by reaching for it so often. Zeb grinned when he saw Kallus reach, and leaned in to nip at his neck before pulling away. He took the tube when it was passed to him, and spread a good amount over his cock before recapping it and putting it back in its spot. 

"I can show you."

Kallus spread his legs in invitation, put his heels behind Zeb's hips to nudge him forward, and smirked. "You'd better get to it, while I'm still relaxed from earlier, shouldn't you?"

Zeb groaned and grabbed his hips, teased him by gliding the tip right over where Kallus wanted it. "Zeb," he hissed. "Don't be a tease."

His lover smirked at him and did it again. "You're being demanding this morning. I've half a mind not to give it to you now.

Kallus raised an eyebrow at him. Oh no. He wouldn't tolerate any of _that_ right now. Reaching down, he took Zeb by the base of his cock to hold him still, used his heels as leverage, and slid himself onto it. It burned, because he had intentionally lied a bit about being stretched enough, but it hurt exactly the way he needed pain right now. Kallus heard Zeb swear something in his native tongue and opened his eyes. The stretch was perfect. Even after spending quite a bit of time building up to it, sometimes Zeb was too much. When they'd been doing this longer, Kallus was quite confident he'd have no trouble accommodating him, but for now that difficulty served his purposes.

Pain.

When they were done, Kallus wanted to feel it. It was something Zeb would not give him if he asked (and he had asked, multiple times, in multiple ways), so subterfuge and pretending it didn't hurt was the only way to get what he needed. " _Karabast_ , Kal, you can't - "

Oh, he could. Kallus clenched his muscles around Zeb to shut him up. The tighter he was, the more accommodating his lover would become. "Blast it, Zeb, would you just _fuck me already_?"

In the last several weeks since they'd acknowledged this thing between them, Kallus and Zeb had done a fair number of terribly naughty things in a number of naughty places, but not once had Kallus ever asked for it in such a base and uncouth manner. He had no problem with dirty talk, and had in fact gotten Zeb to cum in his pants a couple of times with it, but held off on pulling out the heavy artillery. 

And oh, but what an effect it had on the lasat. Zeb growled at him, bent over Kallus and hitched his legs up around his waist and let him have it good and hard. His teeth and fangs found the human's neck and Kallus felt nothing but sweet, sweet pain adding to the heat quickly building in his stomach. 

It was all he could do to hold on to Zeb until he heard a barely audible order for him to _cum, damnit, Rafe,_ and Kallus was spilling between them, the most intense orgasm of his life wrenched out of him. He felt Zeb reach his release, heard him swear and felt him pull out, felt the hot cum on his thighs, then wasn't aware of anything but Zeb pulling him close and holding him as he drifted into the blackness of a good, dreamless sleep.

\---

He woke up alone, in pain, and with what felt like a bandage on his neck. Kallus pushed himself up to his elbows and looked around. There was no sign of Zeb in their room, and clothes were neatly laid out at the foot of their bunk for him. Odd, that. Zeb never did anything like that for him before, so he could only assume he'd pushed his lover too far. A soft sigh escaped him as he clamored out of bed. An apology and explanation were warranted. Kallus looked around for something to clean up with and belatedly realized he didn't need to: Zeb had managed to clean him thoroughly. Had Kallus fallen asleep or blacked out? He looked around their room as he dressed in what had been laid out: the soft, well-worn pants of his old PT uniform that Zeb really liked seeing him in, and a long-sleeved shirt of Zeb's that was too big in the arms and smelled like him. 

Barefoot and quiet, Kallus stepped into the hallway, not entirely sure what he'd be greeted with. If Zeb saw the broadcast before he could get to him…

Oh, it was definitely too late for that. The holorecording sounded like it was nearing the end. Kallus peeked around the corner and swore silently. He was the last one to wake up, and all the ship's current crew and passengers were watching it. That meant Zeb, Kanan, Ezra, Sabine, and Fenn Rau all knew as well, and before he could say anything. Kallus leaned against the wall, openly watching their shocked faces, scowling at Hera and Rex who had seen him and looked away with guilty looks.

This was something he was going to have to get in front of as soon as the recording ended. Hera clicked it off, and Kallus took a deep breath before pushing himself to his full height and stepping forward. "I'm sure you all have questions," he said, looking Zeb, "but if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Zeb first."

Zeb, who obviously didn't look surprised at all, who mostly looked extremely angry, who was glaring daggers at him. He needed to separate Zeb from them, and quickly, because he'd promised them they all had the same information about his past. Except he'd lied a little, because one's lover always ended up on top - pun not intended - when it came to information. The problem was that he'd been warned what would happen if he was caught lying or playing power games or not fully sharing information and this most definitely counted as at least one of those things. The more people who knew that he'd willingly told Zeb everything, the more likely that was to get back to Command. 

Which meant it would get back to General Draven.

Which would be a really big problem.

It couldn't happen. It _wouldn't_ happen. He wasn't going to be locked away in a brig and he wasn't going to be cast out for Thrawn to find. 

They stared each other down, and Kallus softened his expression. An apology was eminent, if Zeb would just come with him, and talk. The others weren't looking at him, except for Ezra who frowned. "Why do you have a bandage on your neck?"

Kanan swatted the back of his head for that one at the same moment everyone else started scolding Ezra, but Zeb took advantage of the distraction to huff out an agreement and stomp past Kallus to their quarters. The human locked it when he entered to keep the others out, aware that it felt like he was trapping himself in a cage with a starving and rabid rancor. Zeb was pacing the length of their shared space. Habitually, Kallus held himself at attention, watching his lover carefully while his stomach twisted itself into knots. After a few minutes, the pacing slowed to a stop, and Zeb sighed, and shook his head, not looking at him.

"I'm sorry, Garazeb," Kallus said then, relaxing and taking a step forward, away from the door. The worst of Zeb's temper had passed now. Best to start with the minor apologies, because if Zeb wasn't mad about the big things he wasn't going to unintentionally cause him to be. He felt awful already, there was no need to make it worse than it was. "I should have told you what happened when I came to bed."

Zeb turned his head to look at Kallus, glaring sharply enough at him that it almost did feel like a stab to the heart. He winced and took a step back. "You really think that's what I'm mad about? You're not going to apologize for putting me in a position for having to pretend like I didn't know about your family or for manipulating me into being rough with you?"

_Blast it. He **is** mad about the big stuff,_ Kallus realized. Using a more soothing voice, he took two steps closer and rested his left hand on Zeb's upper arm. When it wasn't immediately knocked away or ripped from his body, the smaller male decided to count that as a victory. "I'm getting there," he murmured. "I'd just watched it once with Rex when it came in and then had to do it again with Hera - and then we discussed it a bit - and I didn't want to think or feel anymore. I should have asked you, and I should have known better: but thank you."

He looked down at the deck (was that a cumstain they'd missed from two nights ago?), then back up to meet Zeb's terrifying gaze. It had softened a little, but only just. "It was exactly what I needed, and there's no one else in the whole of the universe I could trust with that. I know it scares you that you could hurt me."

Just like that, Zeb went from terrifying potential death machine to concerned grouchy soft thing. He reached for Kallus and tugged him in close. "I bit your neck open, you _kriffing idiot_!" To prove his point, he poked the wound, making Kallus his. "This mark, it's going to scar. You're going to have this for life, Rafe, and we didn't get the chance to sit down and talk about that at all first. It's a big deal, and you took that decision out of our hands this morning."

_What in the Empire's name is Zeb going on about?_

Completely perplexed because this was the first time he was hearing anything about "bite marks" and "big decisions" in the same context, Kallus looked up at his lover, not bothering to hide his confusion. "You're going to have to stop getting on me for being secretive if you don't come clean about what it is I've done that I had no idea I was even doing at the time because you never told me it was a thing that might happen if I did this one action in particular, Garazeb Orellios." 

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Zeb sighed, releasing him. "Look… go straighten things out with the others. Tell them the truth: you wanted to apologize for not telling me. No need to mention over what. Answer their questions. I'll have myself together by the time you come back."

Kallus ran a hand through his hair. "If you're sure. I guess you're not going to run out on me while we're in hyperspace."

"Promise."

Kallus nodded, and pressed a brief kiss to Zeb's lips. That it got a smile out of the lasat gave him hope that everything would be all right.

\---

Correction: everything would be all right with _Zeb_. Hera, Kanan, Rau, and Rex were also on the short list, but he really didn't like dealing with teenagers with parenting issues. The slick little mynocks had cornered him in the galley after he'd answered the adult's questions to pepper him with more about his family. Wasn't he going to go save them? What did he mean, "Oh, hell no?" Didn't he love his parents? How could he say, "Absolutely not!" with a straight face? His mother had been crying: obviously she missed him. Kallus was way to be allowed to live for that with, "Good!"

Kallus sighed, cracked a joke about how parents who loved their kids didn't name them something as stupid as "Rafe", and pushed passed them out of the galley, caf in hand. When they blocked him again in the hallway two meters later, Kallus sighed again, but more dramatically this time hoping they would get the hint that he was done talking right now.

Neither of them budged, so he glared.

"I don't see how they can just disown you like that," Ezra grumbled. "You're their son!"

Ah. Bridger had… issues. Issues Kallus wasn't equipped to handle except with half-truths and avoidance. "We've not gotten along at all since I was around eleven years of age, Ezra. It's honestly not a shock or a disappointment. Now would you two _please_ move so I can go back to arguing with Zeb?"

They traded a look but didn't budge, so Kallus had stooped to their level and called for an adult. He was one, just not one they were listening to. It resulted in instant protests that they were both adults now, thanks, and he raised an eyebrow and calmly told them to act like it as he breezed passed them in the wake of their indignation.

As the door to his and Zeb's room slid shut behind him, he heard Kanan laughing at Ezra. 

Kallus hit the button to lock the door.

"Brought you a drink," he said, and approached Zeb where he was sitting on the floor, back resting against the bunk. Kallus handed it down and carefully lowered himself to the ground beside him.

"Thanks." Zeb took a sip, and didn't quite meet his eyes. "What was all that yelling?"

"Bridger doesn't understand how I'm not bothered much by being disowned or that I don't want to go 'rescue' my parents," he explained, and rested his head against Zeb's shoulder. "Sabine also can't believe I don't want to go rescue my parents, but she understands being okay with being disowned. They seem convinced that I'm leaving these two elderly people to a life of torture, but I'm not. Mother and Father are loyalists, and most likely agreed to be used as bait. They can sit in their comfortable trap. I'm not going after them."

Zeb wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. "They're young, and still learning that everyone has a different family experience." 

Kallus nodded. "And Ezra still sees many things in a black and white view of morality."

"Give them time, and they'll come around."

"I just worry they'll do something completely stupid on purpose to try to help them," he muttered. The main issue with his new family wasn't that they helped literally anybody who needed it - he'd be dead now if they didn't - but they did it without a lot of critical thinking involved. How they were still alive was anyone's guess. If they decided to go to Coruscant to rescue a pair of Imperial Loyalists they didn't even know, there'd be no saving the kids.

He sighed. There was nothing he could do about that right now: something else needed to be discussed. "You have some explaining of your own to do," he reminded gently.

Zeb grimaced and took a long pull of his caf, buying time. Kallus watched him in silence, waiting. After this morning there was no way Zeb was escaping this conversation. Four minutes passed in silence, and Kallus narrowed his eyes. "Zeb," he sternly prodded. "Come on, out with it."

"The uh… the bite mark. It's a claiming mark. A permanent thing," the lasat's ears were flat and pointed back, and he had set down the cup of caf in favor of nervously scratching the back of his head. "It means you're mine now."

Yes, of course he was, they'd been a couple for weeks now. Kallus's eyes narrowed as he worked through the vagaries Zeb had given him. How could that possibly be a big deal, unless -

Unless they had accidentally… "Married," he breathed, eyes wide. 

"Yeah. Kind of. The traditional roles are more complicated than that, but that's the gist of it."

Kallus sat in stunned silence, head turned to stare at the opposite bulkhead wall now instead of Zeb. He'd continued his formal education in the military to get away from marriage. In betraying that, he'd accidentally ended up married to the person who had pushed him into that betrayal in the first place. 

"Karabast," they muttered simultaneously.

Did that just happen? He pulled away and turned to look up at his accidental husband, whom he'd just started to come to terms with having as his lover, whom he didn't even know if he loved yet. Their eyes met, and they chuckled. "So now what?" Kallus asked. "Do we tell people, never speak of this again, buy a home and let you try to knock me up?"

It was an attempt to inject a bit of levity into the situation. Normally, Zeb would have laughed. Zeb did not laugh. Zeb looked way more grave. Kallus frowned. "It was a serious question with semi-serious suggestions, Zeb."

"No, I just… you reminded me of something, is all. We need to find a safe place to hole up for a little while, maybe a week."

He wasn't going to complain about being hidden away with Zeb for a week, but, "Why?" Kallus tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, trying to see in Zeb's expression the reason for his seriousness.

"I told you, the bite's a big deal. You're going to smell like me all the time now, and it's going to trigger er…" Zeb paused, frowned, "I don't think there's a direct translation. I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off you for a few days though, and anyone who so much as looks at you is likely to lose theirs."

"Marriage is going to make you more possessive?" Kallus asked, arching an eyebrow. Zeb nodded. Kallus pressed his lips together. "All the time?"

A shrug was his answer. "Who knows? I know what it'll do soon. I know I feel guilty for giving in to the instinct to bit you like I did, and I feel guilty for blaming you for it. Part of that's my fault, so sorry for that."

Kallus reached a hand out and rested it on Zeb's. "Is this going to have any repercussions I should know about?"

"Every full moon at midnight you'll transform into a lasat and run wild through the nearest patch of woo - Ow!"

"Zeb!"

They laughed then, and Kallus knew for sure that everything really would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my medicine just kicked in at once, and I was so high for the final read through and post. Here's hoping I still love the ending tomorrow after general orientation.


End file.
